Maid Service

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How had I found myself here? Did it matter anymore? All that mattered was that I was in trouble.

Let me quantify that, I had been tarred and feathered, was hogtied and in the back of a Transit van about to be delivered to God knows where

Any normal person would have been filled with fear and trepidation, filled with massive levels of humiliation. Clearly, as I was finding this to be hot as hell and almost ready to cum, I was not a normal person.


“Twin or double?”

In fact, it was a ground floor disabled room, close to the fire exit and the first thing I did was to isolate the door alarm and pull up the car outside. You see, it is always easier if curious reception staff don’t see you bringing in bags and boxes. They want to know what’s inside and are more prone to knock on the door later to ensure you are not up to trouble.

If they knew the answer was that the bags contained tarpaulins, plastic sheeting, custard, cake batter and the like, they would, as likely as not, tell you to bugger off and cancel the booking on the spot.

Oh goodness, to be a splosher. One of those unique fetishists who enjoyed the feel of sloppy mess on your body. Naturally, if we were ‘normal’ Whatever the hell that was! A can of squirty cream and some chocolate sauce would do, but ‘fuck normality’ was our clarion cry as we unloaded gallon jugs of syrup and molasses.

Of course, as is life. We had met each other in the wrong order. We had both known about our kinks. Those little messy foibles set us apart from the boring people. But, had started relationships with the very people we chose to avoid. Yes, we have love and family, but we also have an itch that has to be scratched. So, fate, chance, call it what you will, conspired to ensure we met to allow our, dirty little secrets to be played out.

So, we were stymied, we couldn’t play messy games at home while a curious (read furious) partner looked on. And, finding a messy playroom wasn’t, as yet, a search option on TripAdvisor. So, we would go through this subterfuge. The weeks of planning, the copious amounts of cleaning materials, the set-up which, if discovered could make us look like serial killers. I mean, what normal person wraps a hotel room in thick plastic.

A few tips, should you wish to follow our lead. Always choose a ground floor room (you really don’t want a dripping rubbish bag to dribble something over the lift and cause questions). Go for a disabled room, with their ‘wet rooms’ and additional bars which offer options for tie-up games and finally, be discrete and ensure the ‘do not disturb’ sign is on the door at all times.

Of course, there are other housekeeping things, making sure the shower is working before you go too far – schoolboy error! But I will let you guess what crucial mistake I made.


The room was soon set up, just as we liked it. Shower tested, powerful and unlimited hot water, we would need that. Plastic on the bed and floors, of course ensuring the walls were covered for splatters and there would be plenty of those. We allowed ourselves a drink in the bar, something to overcome those last-minute nerves.

I looked around the others in the quiet bar, I wondered about their stories. The clandestine meetings, the boring lone masturbaters and us. Would you guess that the middle-aged fatty and his beautiful partner would soon be playing out the sort of scene which would be too shocking even for a channel five documentary? I allowed a smile to play across my face, a tall blond woman opposite smiled back, a knowing smile.


“Are you ready?”

Stupid question, she was like a child in a sweet shop. She knew what was coming, she had helped me line up the pies. Open the tins and tear the corners from the packages of custard. She wanted it all, she would get it all. Right now, the expectation had rendered her silent, her heart racing. I offered her a seat. She straightened her little black dress, adjusted her stockings and sat in the plastic chair.

I smiled. I would take my time; she was here to savour the experience and I was going to make that happen.


Was I ready? I was past the point of excitement, my nipples hard and my silk panties soaked with my impending pleasure. This was my escape. If someone had asked me if they had cared to, why do you want to be restrained and messed up? I would have honestly said it was my only escape. A loss of control, but more than that, it was a release. Release from the boring job, from pandemic lockdown, from the everyday. The moment I felt the ropes tighten around my wrists I knew all that had been left behind.

I didn’t know why I reacted as I did to mess. It was a bizarre, almost ridiculous kink which, for a long time had worried or puzzled me. Then I realised. It wasn’t to be questioned; I couldn’t change myself. It was the same as saying the sky was blue, it is, it’s a fact and çorum escort nothing I could do would change it. My fetish was a part of me. A delicious thing that allowed me to fly. Oh, I was sad for people who would never understand the release that this would give me. The joy.

Yes, it was a sexual thing Let’s get to the animal level. I would cum more times than I had in the previous year. But it was more than that. I would be released into subspace, that place of total escape from the world where my body would be totally electric, my mind flying.

I saw him smile. Pie in hand. I tugged against my bindings. I knew they were sound, but this was the moment I wanted to savour, that second before it started. He knew that. He approached me slowly, telling me I was a slut Yet, with a smile. This wasn’t hateful, this was the silliest, most joyful, sensual experience.

“Bring it on!” My voice was husky, the hormones flooding my body.

The feeling of the first impact. There is a second when your world goes dark, you have to rely on your other senses. The smell, well, your nose in engulfed in vanilla and chocolate. The sound there is that ‘splat’ the dripping of cream on plastic. And the feeling, a coolness which engulfs you, the drip onto your chest.

Of course, he doesn’t stop with one pie, there are six in quick succession before he allows me a moment to enjoy the feeling. He clears my eyes as my hands are useless. I feel the weight across my head and upper body, it is flowing across my chest, embracing my, already stiff nipples.

Custard is next, seeping into my dress, the chill raising goosebumps on my skin. His hands as he smooths it over the silk of my dress, sweeping over my nipples which elicits a gasp of primal pleasure.

I’m squirming in the seat, the custard and cream pooling in my crotch, doing nothing to ease the fire down below. He helps me stand, placing a massive cake on the chair before gesturing for me to sit again. I sink into deep frosting which engulfs my pussy through the gossamer-thin fabric. I imagine what I look like. I had stepped into this room a trophy, the little black dress, the high heels. Now my perfectly set hair which had cost a small fortune was matted to my head, layered with cream and chocolate with a cherry on top which he had placed there. My face, previously made up perfectly was under layers of custard which also tarnished my dress. And there, between my thighs, I was sitting on a huge, sloppy cake.

I stare into the mirror, seeing the reality and almost cumming right there and then, the scene of the perfect woman brought down.

It continued. A gallon of cake batter, which smoothed my features, he ran his hands through the thick slop. Then more pies before chocolate sauce gave me a uniform coating of brown. I shone like a statue. My shoes were removed one by one, filled with honey for the left, its thick embrace gluing the shoe to my foot. The right topped to the brim with custard which splattered onto the floor.

My dress was ruined so he tore it from me. Cutting at the seams before ripping the fabric. I stood admiring my lingerie, the black lace bra, coated with custard, my silk panties and the stockings and suspenders.

As I stood, he tipped icy liquid into my panties. Melted ice cream, I cursed, but, as he slipped his fingers in, swirling the cream around my clit I felt the heat build. I was soaking wet as he slipped the balls inside me. Each movement was a delight as they fidgeted deep within.

I was, of course, too clean for his liking. Soon resolved with two gallons of molasses and three bags of flour. I was soon coated, first shiny and then statuesque in a thick layer of white. He removed my bra, there was some bare skin but it was minimal, the flow of molasses soon covered any clue that I was a human and not a statue.

Running his hands over my body was magical, when he took a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking I could hold back no more, my body shaking as my first orgasm hit me. He lay me down, the bed covered first with plastic and then a thick sheet.

Releasing the ropes, only to tie me spreadeagle I was at his mercy as he lowered his head to my pussy. I gasped as his tongue lapped at my lips before diving within, soon he sucked at my clit. He started to massage my breasts with handfuls of syrup straight from the bucket as he continued at my sex. The heavy and sticky syrup engulfed me, flowing across my body.

I lost count of how many times I came, either with him sucking at me or when he stepped back, attaching the Hitachi to my leg and continued to coat my prone body. When I eventually woke the room was hot, I had been covered with the sort of shiny space blankets you would give to marathon runners. Looking down I looked like an oven-ready turkey. Trussed-up, well basted and ready to roast in my own juices.


I was allowing myself a leisurely denizli escort breakfast. She had passed out so I had switched off and removed the toys, wrapped her up and, once I could see she was sleeping soundly, left her rest. She would need time to recover.

I put the do not disturb sign on the door, and went first to the pool for a morning swim and then to the restaurant for a full English and lots of black coffee. We were here for the weekend, so why rush?

Someone needed recovery time and then, there was a lot more mess for her to enjoy. I glanced at my watch. She had been alone for a couple of hours, I would return and see how she was, letting her sleep until she was ready.

I strolled back to the room, noticing the door sign was on the floor. It must have fallen when I closed the door. Never mind. I inserted my keycard and stepped inside.

The room was dark and quiet, I crept in and then my heart stopped.

The plastic was gone, but more importantly so was she! I rushed out to check the room number, yes this was our room but

I looked around, was this a prank? No, she had been strapped to the bed.

Oh my God


I was flying. My mind was totally clear. I heard a noise but ignored it. There was movement, oh he was back. I was exhausted.

“What the fuck!”

A woman’s voice? My eyes snapped open. She was dressed in a maid’s uniform, this six-foot, muscular blond was stood at the foot of the bed. Staring down at me with a look of total distaste in her eyes.

“Who are you?” I squeaked.

“Housekeeping Did you not hear me knock? Well, obviously not!” She walked around the bed, pulling at my restraints.


“Look at this mess! You expect me to clean this up, don’t you? It’s okay Leave it for the maid.”

“No Please you don’t understand!”

“Oh, I understand missy. You thought you would play out your kinky game and then fuck off and leave me a mess to clean up. Well, that isn’t going to happen”

I watched what I could as she bustled around the room, flinging paper plates and packaging into a huge black bag on her trolley. She tore up the plastic sheeting and started to clean the surfaces. I tried to plead with her.

“Look As far as I can tell, there has been a mess left for me to clean up. Which is what I am going to do.”

When I started to shout at her, she picked my panties from the floor, balling them up she shoved them in my mouth before securing them with some of the duct tape we had used. I was helpless as she sliced through my bindings.

“Time to change the bed.”

I was picked up as if I wasn’t there, she dumped me in the black bag, dropping the sheet on top before sealing it and wrapping the bag in layers of duct tape, telling me she didn’t want the bag to split before it was dumped.

I felt the trolly move. I was pushed down the corridor. I heard him.

“Hi there I’m sorry. I’m in room 101, I’m missing something?”

“Sorry, sir I haven’t seen anything in that room.”

I tried to shout, but it was obvious he didn’t hear me. I was suddenly outside; I knew only because it was colder. The trolly pushed up a ramp and then, I was being driven away.


There had been a short, bumpy journey and then we stopped, I was pushed back down the ramp. I shouted and squirmed, hoping not to end up in a landfill. There was a ripping sound and light entered my world.

“Hello Now, I’m allowed to keep rubbish I find at my job”

She stood over me, a powerful maiden. She dragged me from the bag and stood me up. I was in a stable, or so it seemed. When I looked at her, she was wearing riding breeches and polished riding boots. I guessed that explained her muscles and strength. I stood before her, quaking.

“Now, I hate people who leave a mess. I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

I stared wide-eyed at her. I tried pleading but my gag prevented any recognisable speech and, I was pretty sure she would ignore me. She rapidly tied my hands above my head, so that I was hanging from a hook. There were warm woodchips beneath my feet.

“So, you like to be messy, do you? Okay”

I watched as she stepped out of the stable, before returning pushing a barrow. There were buckets held within it, she took the first, tipping it I was coated in stinking chip fat.

“A gift from the kitchens”

The fat was cold and ran slowly down my body eventually dripping from my skin. She topped the fat with cold beans, leftovers from breakfast, she stated. Next, she tipped a bucket of magnolia paint over my head. I must have looked a sight.

She left me hanging in the stable for some hours, the paint tightening on my body. When she eventually returned it was with a pressure washer, she sprayed me with, thankfully, warm water before cutting me down and removing my gag.

“Are you doing to let me go?” I stuttered.

“And why would diyarbakır escort I do that? You’re my property now No, you need to be punished.”

Punished? Surely this has been punishment enough, kidnapped, messed up She dragged me out into the yard, sat down on a chair and hefted me over her knee. I gasped as she brought her hand down onto my bare bottom, spanking me firmly. I was deeply humiliated, however, after the initial shock a different warmth flooded my body and, on the twelfth slap, I came hard, squirting over her breeches. I felt something being rubbed into my skin.

“Arnica. It’ll help the bruising.” She stood me up. “Rebecca” I fell into her arms.


Sitting down in the farmhouse kitchen, now dressed in spare jodhpurs and a polo shirt, Rebecca was far from the tyrant I had imagined. However, she told me that, whereas she wasn’t cross with me. The fact she had been inadvertently drawn into our games and the fact I had been left alone when anything could have happened to me was inexcusable. She was furious with the way I had been left. She apologised for messing me up and spanking me, however, as she said with a twinkle in her eye, she could tell I was a kindred spirit.

I had blushed, but she was quite right. Despite everything, the whole situation had been as hot as hell! And I found myself falling for this pretty equestrian.

However, there needed to be lessons learnt. So, as we sat there together, we hatched a plan.


I’d been pacing. I could hardly go to the hotel management and explain what had happened, but I had got to the stage that I thought I should go to the police when the text had arrived. She explained she had got free and washed up. She would come back, just sit tight.

Okay, I was confused, but if she was okay

An hour later, when she arrived, I hugged her. She smiled and handed me a drink from the bar, explaining she had got uncomfortable and had wanted to find me. None of it made much sense, but, as I sipped my sweet cocktail I started not to care.

I started feeling giggly and then woozy and finally, I collapsed in a heap. I was just about awake as I was manhandled into a trolley by a maid, but then I slipped into a deep sleep.


“Wakey, wakey”

I snapped my eyes open. My head was banging, she was standing in front of me in a very pretty maid outfit. Beside her was a blond dressed the same, but bigger in every way. Suddenly I realised I couldn’t speak. Shit! I’d been gagged. Then the bigger picture started to form, I was tied up, hanging from a hook and I was naked.

My eyes were wide and I started to struggle, this just seemed to make them both laugh. There was a painful sting on my arse, the blond had slapped me with a long schooling whip.

“Now. You left your friend in a very unsafe position, so, we have decided to teach you a lesson”

She pushed a barrow into view, there were buckets of something in it. She removed one of the lids No! I pleaded the best I could but they just laughed. It was tar, I could smell it now. I pulled at the restraints garnering a powerful smack with the whip.

“Now, you take your punishment like a big boy Although I can see that is not the case for you” She prodded my dick with the whip and both women laughed.

They both dipped heavy paintbrushes in the tar before smearing it across my body. I knew that this was going to be bad news for me, but resigned myself to my punishment as a bucket was tipped over my head.

Of course, where there is tar there must be feathers and they came in copious quantities. Pillows taken from the hotel bins, so goodness knows what the itchy mass contained as it stuck to my body.

Eventually, after extra brush full’s of tar were added to my arse crack and balls the girls considered the job done. I noticed her hopping on her toes and then whispering to the blond.

“You want what?”

It was soon clear as she stripped off and stood beside me. She was soon equally covered in thick tar and her hair coated, presumed unsavable. We were soon two white-feathered birds, carefully loaded in the back of her horsebox.


“Mystery surrounds the pair who were discovered early this morning in the town square, both had been subjected to the strange treatment, covered in roofing tar and feathers. They were taken to the general hospital where the tar was removed. The police had no comment other than believing it was a youtube prank which had gone horribly wrong.”

It was over six months later when we finally managed to get a chance to meet again. I still wasn’t sure how I had explained my condition to my wife or her to her partner, coming home bald from the top of my head to my toes with even my eyebrows removed. She had just sighed and accepted the nonsense story. She knew what my kinks were, she chose not to engage with them, so a tacit agreement was made, and a blind eye turned to what she felt was my stupidity.

“Double or twin?”

Was it the same receptionist? I don’t know All I knew, as I clipped home the handcuffs which trapped me on the bed, next to her tightly bound body was that I hoped the same maid was on duty, we both had a serious itch to scratch

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